A Box of Chocolates
by Spirit414
Summary: Jack Kelly liked to think his life was perfect, but in reality, it's far from it. A story about life, friendship, depression, but most of all Jack.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ok, here it is!! A Box of Chocolates! I hope you all enjoy, I've been working on this one for a while now, and it should definitely be better than my others. I know it's not very long so far, but it's sort of a prolouge of what will come. There will be more to come, it is a chaptered story, so maybe some of you will review and make me write! Well, have fun!! **

A Box of Chocolates

_Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." _

_-Forrest Gump _

Jack Kelly liked to think his life was perfect. But now, as he listened to the echo of screaming and shattering glass reach his ears, he desperately willed himself to believe it.

We'll just start off by saying Jack Kelly's life was far from perfect. This fact was quite eminent due to the large amount of fighting going on right outside his bedroom door. He heard his mother scream that his father was a filthy bastard over his father's accusations and swearing, and sighed. Jack rolled over on his small bed, jammed the headphones farther into his ears, and turned up the volume on his iPod.

He was waiting for the moment when the fighting would finally cease, and everything would be okay again. His parents would knock on his door, enter red faced, but tell him everything was fine, they just had a 'little disagreement.' It was by these words that Jack took refuge in, repeating them over and over until he finally believed them himself.

The heavy Metallica guitar solo screamed in his brain, while the steady drum thudded behind his eyes like a heartbeat. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the music, in an attempt to drown out the incessant screaming. Jack still heard it anyway, and turned up his iPod to the max. Maybe he could still hear it because the music wasn't loud enough, but Jack thought that was hardly the case. Maybe it was because he'd heard this fight a thousand times; that he didn't need to hear it to know what was being said.

His father had probably caught his mother doing something, who knows what, maybe she was cheating again, but he had most likely slapped her. Of course she had bitten back with a few nasty insults, and this Jack could stand. What he hated was when the bottles started flying. One after another, empty beer bottles would fly through the air, barely miss his mother, and shatter against the wall.

He wished he could turn up the volume again. The sound was loud enough to make any normal person deaf, but that's just what Jack wanted to be. The fight was most likely winding down, and right when Jack expected it, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his parents standing a good five feet away from each other. The ever so familiar knot in his stomach returned and tightened when he saw his mother. So his father didn't have horrible aim after all, surprising.

Why were they being so distant? Usually they at least tried to look like they liked each other. He glanced from face to face, trying to read something, but quickly gave up. He'd never been good at that anyway.

"Son," his father began, and the knot tightened still as Jack fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "As you may have noticed, your mother and I haven't been getting along lately."

Jack suppressed an eye roll. Like hell he hadn't noticed.

"So," he continued, "Your mother and I have come to an agreement. She's moving out. We're getting a divorce."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ok! Here is the second chapter in my story!! I hope you all enjoy it!! Just so you know, the real plotting will come in the next few chapters, and this is still sort of leading it in. Well, I guess I should just let you read it now. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Newsies...sadly, never will. **

A Box Of Chocolates

"_Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." _

_-Forrest Gump _

Jack slid into his first period class not even bothering to take out his notes from the day before. What was the point? He was just going to fail the class anyway... He just figured if he slept approximately half of each class, he could make up some of what he'd lost last night. Ignoring the buzzing in the pocket of his worn out jean shorts, he put his head on his desk, let his dark hair cover his eyes and tried to think of other things, but the only thing that came to mind was his phone vibrating nonstop. Most likely David had told everyone about his 'situation', probably unintentionally, but told them nonetheless. Whatever, he could deal with that at lunch, only five short periods away. Which, of course, would pass much too quickly.

Jack pushed all these thoughts from his mind and squeezed brown his eyes shut, in a futile attempt to block everything else out. All too soon, the bell rang for the end of first period, then second, and finally fifth. David was back at his locker while Jack rummaged through the mess of old papers and gym clothes for the lunch he knew he forgot to pack for himself. "Damn."

David impatiently tapped his foot. Why couldn't David just wear tennis shoes like everyone else? "Jack, we're gonna be late for lunch. I'll just buy you some ok?" Jack ran a hand through his long hair, cursing himself for his forgetfulness. How many times would it be now? He was sick of David always having to do things he could have easily done for himself.

"Yeah ok, though I don't know how you can be late for lunch, it's not like it's an actual subject or anything…" Jack trailed off, giving David a wide grin and headed down the hallway, passing the bathroom.

"Seriously," Spot chimed in, well, as much as Spot could chime. He had just stepped out of the bathroom and fell in step with the rest of the group. "It's the only class I don't have a D in."

"So if Spot's not failing it, it's obviously not a subject." David rolled his eyes, which widened when the late bell rang.

"You gotta loosen up Davey," Jack stated, slapping him on the back, the kid was wearing a _sweater vest_, "Be more like me." Hah, that was a joke. No one wanted to be like him that was for sure. Not with his screwed up life.

Finally entering the noisy cafeteria, Jack's thoughts were cut short by a wad of trash barely missing his head and nailing Spot in the back, splattering ranch dressing over his already filthy shirt. "Hey!" Spot whipped around, blue eyes blazing. "Fuck off!" The group of boys glared and laughed, aiming another piece of trash. Before he could do anything, David grabbed Spot's wrist out of habit. "Just…just, calm down alright?" Well, he could try couldn't he?

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Spot nearly growled, yanking his skinny wrist out of David's grasp. Jack shook his head.

"Don't even bother anymore Dave..." Jack didn't even flinch when Spot made another lunge at the table, only to be stopped by David again. Dave very nearly had to drag Spot over to their table, curses flying out of his mouth. Hell, Jack had no idea why people avoided them; maybe it was because of Spot, the new kid they had befriended at the beginning of the year. The truth was people, well, except for the Jock table, were scared of him. No one really knew his real name; he'd just been there at the beginning of the year, calling himself Spot. And Dave, well, Dave just sort of tagged along wherever Jack went. They'd been friends since kindergarten, and no matter how much they'd changed throughout the years, David had always been there.

"Just look at those fucktards," Spot hissed under his breath, "They think their so great don't they?" Jack nodded and rolled his eyes with Spot. The Jocks, or the boys on the various sport's teams throughout the school all sat at one single table. Harassing the misfits was their sick form of entertainment.

"Yeah, what jerks," He stole half of Spot's ham sandwich, something only he could get away with, and shoved it in his mouth. He hadn't had breakfast either. What he wouldn't give to sit at that table, to be accepted, to laugh and talk with all of them… He was so close to them, but hell, like that would ever happen. But, he did have nice friends, and a shitty family, slowly getting shittier by the day. Yeah, seemed just great compared to what they had.

"Jack?" David was fruitlessly trying to get his attention by waving his hand in front of Jack's vacant expression. "Do you wanna get in line so we can get lunch? I think they have some chicken thing…"

"Hey!" Spot barked, "Go buy food so you can stop stealing mine!" That was about the nicest that Spot ever was to him…but what was expected? He was Spot. Jack glanced over then got up an headed to the other side of the cafeteria, only to receive a smirk before Spot's hair fell back into his eyes and busied himself with the rest of his meager lunch.

The rest of the period passed without incident, despite a few more trash wads that had somehow found their way to the back of Spot's head. Jack pretty much slept the rest of the day away, and after almost every possible way to delay the trip home as long as possible, he arrived at the front door. The door was so old; the rusty red paint was chipping off by the hinges which Jack's father always forgot to oil. Jack vaguely wondered what fabulous surprise was waiting for him as he dug for his key. Shit...he couldn't find it.

After another search through his black book bag and pockets, he realized it was pretty much hopeless. Ok, well there were other ways he could get inside, right? Namely breaking one of the huge bay windows or busting down the back door. All that'd do was make him look like a thief, and Jack didn't feel like going to jail again. Well, the garage door could be opened from the outside, couldn't it? All he had to do was break the latch or whatever was holding it and then he'd be in.

Finding the old snow shovel in the shed, Jack gathered a few old wood planks and created a lever with the shovel. Then he shoved the blade of the shovel underneath the door, and jumped on the handle. The door didn't budge. "Stupid door!! Just open already!! Jeez, why doesn't anything ever work!" Quickly cutting himself off, Jack realized he had resorted to screaming at inanimate objects. Jumping as hard as he could on the makeshift lever, it snapped with a resounding crack.

Well, plan A was out of the picture, but Jack had a few more tricks up his sleeve. Such as…well, no, he didn't. And what was worse, was that he really had to pee, and it started to rain, soaking his Metallica t-shirt through and plastering his hair to his face. Ok, he was busting the window open.

Finding the largest rock he could, he paused before he threw it through the window to check a text. Who was bothering him now? He had to get access to a bathroom A.S.A.P, and the rain was chilling him, causing him to shiver. The realization hit him, and Jack felt like slapping himself. Grimacing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket he dialed David's number. "Dave?" He sighed in relief, "Yeah I'm locked outta my house. Do you think I could come over for a while 'till my parents get home?" Another sigh, "I know…I know…I won't forget next time…five minutes? Ok, I'll be out front...Yes by the swing…No I won't hide in the bushes to scare you like last time." Jack said his goodbyes and snapped the phone shut. Thank goodness for David. Soon, Jack would be in his car and on his way to a bathroom. And, he didn't have to go back home for at least a few more hours, and that was always a plus.

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**Reviews are nice, though not requred...hope you liked it! Currently working on chapter four, so chapter three should be up in about a week and a half...maybe earlier. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Alrighty….well…here we go again! Another chapter in my story. I really hope you guys like it, mostly because I've actually been trying really hard on this one. Sure, the other ones weren't completely horrible (though they were) And I did try on them, but this one I've been working on for a while. I'd actually like to know what you think about it.**

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It had been what, only a week since the whole stupid, 'announcement,' and Jack was already loading boxes into the cheap truck his mother had rented. Who knew, maybe it was because he had no one else to fight with, or maybe it was because he was even more drunk than usual, but in the final stages of the move out was when Jack and his father had really started to fight.

Of course it wasn't completely horrible the first few times, maybe a test grade, leaving the lights on, but whatever it was, be it the smallest thing, Jack got yelled at for it. But only after his father had a few drinks in his system, which was really all the time, did it get physical. Jack continually came to school with bruises and cuts, and once even his arm in a sling. His excuse? It varied from day to day, from falling, to knocking into things. People would either guess he was getting hit on a daily basis or he was just a klutz.

Hopefully they would pick option number two.

"JACK!" Rolling his eyes, Jack looked up from the History book he was supposedly studying. Pushing the long hair out of his eyes, he stared at the door where his father was probably in the process of breaking down any minute now.

His father's gruff voice seeped through the doorway, and by the amount of slurring that was happening, Jack could tell he was drunk.

Squeezing his brown eyes shut, Jack waited…with a bang, the door exploded open slamming off the back wall and leaving a deeper dent from the doorknob. There stood his father, empty bottle dangling from his hand. The familiar stench seeped into the room, and Jack knew it would take a lot more than a couple of air fresheners to get rid of it this time.

Jack glared at his father's unshaven sweaty face, loathing every inch.

"You better answer the first time I call you boy, or there's going to be problems." Another eye roll, what were real problems anymore anyway?

"Ok…whatever you say." Jack focused back on his History book, perfectly aware that his father was still taking up space on the shag carpet.

"Don't take that tone with me." A pause, "Hey!" In three shaky strides, his father crossed the small room and forced Jack's head up with his clammy hand when he didn't look up the first time. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Jack's eyes narrowed and he tried to yank his head out of the stony grasp now around his throat. "I'll look at you if I wanna look at you!" Wrong answer.

Suddenly, with a sickening crack, Jack's head was thrown up against the wall. Bright spots popped out in front of his eyes as he fought to stay conscious. He couldn't even spit out a good enough retort, the pain in his head was dizzying.

His father's greasy face was inches from his, and Jack closed his eyes as his head hit the wall with another thud. "Now you listen to me boy." That was almost physically impossible at this point, but Jack kept his gaze fixed on his father's. "I tell you to do something, and you do it. Understand?"

The stench oozed out of his mouth and was hot on Jack's face. He could feel the bile rise in his throat and forced himself to lock it down. "Yes," he choked out, the hand still circled around his throat.

Jack's head was pounding and the headache was splitting his head in half. Jack wanted desperately to just pass out so his father would finally leave him alone, but unfortunately things never went his way. Jack could feel a small trickle of blood run down the side of his face, drip onto his navy blue basketball shorts, and knew questions would be asked again. His excuses couldn't last forever, that much he knew, and someone would eventually find out.

After what seemed like an eternity, the steel grip loosened around his throat and he heard the padded footsteps of his father head out the door. Barely conscience by this point, Jack collapsed on his dark green comforter and groaned, spilling his stomach's contents all over the floor. Well, he could deal with that later, after he took a long enough shower to clean the blood off his head, and clean the blood spilling out of his wrists as well.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"It's nothing Dave, I'm serious, could you just leave it alone?" Fifteen minutes. This conversation had been going on for fifteen minutes. So why was David still staring at Jack like he was a monster from a horror movie?

"Jack…" David began, always the beginning word in one of his lectures. Rolling down his sleeves Jack sighed and rolled his eyes with them. Curse art, curse the paint and curse David's observant eye. What if others had seen them too? The nearly healed gashes running across his forearms weren't that huge, nor were they that obvious, but David had seen them nonetheless.

"And that's why I have to tell someone." Jack stopped dead in his tracks causing David to crash into him, scattering books and papers everywhere.

"What did you just say?" He asked, staring David down.

"Um, I have to tell someone?" Squirming under Jack's steely gaze, he fidgeted with the lone book still clutched in his hand.

No, this was exactly what Jack didn't want to happen. "No, you're gonna keep your mouth shut for once." The second the words came out of his mouth, the second Jack regretted saying them.

David just glared at him and bent down to pick up the books. Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had to apologize, but David couldn't tell anyone. No one could know what he did, even if it had been a few days ago. Sure, there were a few snaking their way up his arms but it wasn't that serious. He had only done it once, and that didn't necessarily mean he'd do it again.

Bending down to help David pick up the books, Jack forced himself to meet his gaze. "Look Davey, it's just that if you did happen to tell someone, things, at home, might get out of hand." At his words David's mouth fell open, but he quickly shut it. Well, Jack had been trying to choose his words carefully but that had obviously been the wrong thing to say.

"You-You mean you're being…abused?" Jack winced visibly at the word.

"No…not technically."

"You are aren't you!" David folded his arms across his chest, straightening.

"Don't do that Dave, we're in public."

"You're avoiding the question Jack." To Jack's relief, Spot popped up before he was forced to answer. Spot had a knack of appearing at the most random times.

"What's the question?" David opened his mouth to repeat it, but Jack quickly cut him off.

"Um, whether or not scaring someone can actually give them a heart attack?" The statement sounded more like a question as Jack silently begged David with his eyes not to say anything.

Spot obviously took some type of offense to that, because he flipped both of them off and headed down the hall mumbling a 'whatever,' baggy jeans dragging on the floor.

David glared, well, as much as David could glare, at Jack. "The subject has not been avoided, and the question still stands, and I want an answer Jack," David said sternly.

Jack was getting quite irritated with David by this point, and shifted uncomfortably in his black Vans.

"I'm waiting." Here Jack snapped.

"You know what Davey," Jack's voiced oozed sarcasm, just to be sure David picked up that he was trying to be mean. He could be a real dimwit when it came to stuff like that. "I don't have to take any of this shit from you, or anyone else!! So you better get to class or, oh no! You might be late! Maybe one tarnish in that life of yours would do you some good, you know?"

Seemingly un-phased, David calmly said, "Jack, school's over, we have Art eighth period."

Jack faltered a little in his rant, but continued nonetheless. "Well…then you should probably go home then!! 'Cause you might be late for that too!!" He finished a little lamely, thrusting David's history book at him.

A small amount of hurt flickered in David's blue eyes despite his efforts to mask it. "Well, sorry for trying to be a good friend!" David half yelled, ignoring the stares they were getting from after school lingerers.

"Hah! Good friend my ass! If you were a good friend you'd leave me alone and mind your own god damn business!" Jack's voice increased with every curse that flew out of his mouth, and Jack never swore at David. The curses rang off the walls of the hall and hit Jack like a slap in the face.

The small voice of reason in the back of his mind told him to stop yelling now, and apologize before things got out of hand, but Jack was too fired up to listen. He rarely listened to it anyway, so why start now?

David was faltering, Jack could see it, and it gave him small burst of pride. It was pretty hard to beat David at any type of conversation, especially for Jack.

"Well…Well…" Oh, it felt so good to have David at a loss for words for once in his life. "Well, this is far from over Jack, and you know it!" With that last word, David turned on his heel and strode down the hall to his locker.

Jack glared after him, knowing full well it wasn't over either.

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**OK!! Well I'm hoping that wasn't too suckish...but it'd be actually nice if you reviewed for me, it's the only thing that really motivates me to write.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Woo!! Here's the next installment of "A Box of Chocolates!!" Hope you all enjoy! Sorry that this update took so long everyone!! I was so busy with summer activities and all that jazz. It was insane, but to all my loyal readers...I hop you like it!**

"No."

"Jack, I told you not to speak to me like that!" Jack had been sitting in the kitchen, minding his own business and shoving a pack of blueberry pop tarts in his mouth when his overly drunken father had waltzed in the room.

"But I said I don't want to, and when I said that, I meant it." Well maybe he wasn't overly drunk as of now, considering it was seven o'clock in the morning.

"Remember that little chat we had son." The word son was spat at him, like it was some horrible disease. But, oh, did Jack remember that chat well.

"I think so," he answered slowly, brushing pop-tart crumbs off his faded black shirt, "was that the one where you nearly broke my arm?" He shook his head quickly, "Oh, no, I'm sorry, that was the one where you nearly cracked my head open against the wall."

His father's gaze turned hard, harder than it already was, if that was even possible. He stuck his face near Jack's, now a regular occurrence, but it was effective enough. Jack still had to keep himself from flinching away from the hot smell of alcohol.

"I won' hesitate to do it again, boy," He spat in his face. Jack hurriedly stood up before anything else could happen.

"You wanna know why, Dad?" Jack's dark eyes narrowed, and he continued, "It's too soon, and I don't think your so called 'girlfriend' wants anything to do with me. So no, I'm not meeting her." That was the final word before he grabbed his book bag and headed out the door without so much as brushing his teeth.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The half disheveled look Jack sported as he walked through the building fit in quite nicely, seeing as it was Monday, and the majority was wearing sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. Of course David still had his usual collared shirt and khaki pants combo. This wasn't a school that demanded a uniform, yet David's wardrobe varied in minimal amounts.

Normally, Jack would have shrugged off David's clothing choice and gone to talk to hi, but today, not very unlike the majority of his days lately were not normal. He still wasn't ready to forgive David for the fight they had last Friday, and with a whole weekend to stew, Jack was even angrier that David would even dare.

Of course he knew that he should have apologized that same day, but in Jack's mind, he had done nothing wrong. It had been David who was a fault for everything. Heck, it was a lot easier than admitting to himself and David that maybe he had overreacted just a little bit, but he didn't want to give David that satisfaction. Jack wanted David to come to him.

Now, as he opened his sorry excuse for a locker he could almost feel David's blue eyes boring into the back of his head, and gave a small smile of triumph. He waited a few seconds longer before turning around, only to find that David was gone. How had he left so quickly? Had David even been there at all, or had it been Jack's imagination?

Discreetly glancing down the crowded hallway, he spotted David's head disappear into a classroom. Huh…Jack had been positive David would at least say something to him, or try to beg for forgiveness. The whole silence treatment was very unlike David, and Jack didn't like it one bit.

Jack slammed his locker, shrugging the abnormal behavior off with it. There were more important things to think about other than David pouting in a corner, such as this morning's occurrence. What had that been about? And where had his dad picked up the girlfriend? And why did he randomly care about Jack's opinion of her?

And of course it was all way to soon. Jack hadn't even thought for a second that his father even remotely cared about his well being, but to find some new girl in less than two weeks of his parent's divorce was a little much.

And though Jack would never admit it to himself or anyone else, he wasn't completely mentally stable at the moment.

Slipping into homeroom right as the bell rang, his teacher, Mr. Johnson spoke, "Close one again Mr. Kelly," The balding teacher commented as he sat down. He never failed to call Jack out on his faults, and with Jack's current situation, it wasn't what he needed.

Nodding, he slid into his seat as the class jock, Tony "Racetrack" Higgins meandered his way into the room. "Sit down Higgins," Johnson told him, "Or I'll have to call your parents again."

Race simply smirked. "If you haven't noticed after the hundreds of calls you've delivered this year, my parents don't really care much, so I think I'll come in when I feel like it." The class stared at Mr. Johnson, waiting for a reaction.

Race was known for his sarcasm and wit in the classroom, and the teacher's reactions were what the students lived for. Mr. Johnson, however, didn't give him what he was looking for, and pointed to the seat.

"Aw come on, I was at least looking for some kind of retort," He continued, "And all I get is a hand gesture." Racetrack tsk-ed the man, "You're getting slow in your old age Johnson, or am I just too much for you?"

Mr. Johnson finally opened his mouth as the students waited. "I suggest you sit down now Mr. Higgins, and in the future at least try to be like Mr. Kelly over here who at least makes it on time."

Being one of the jocks at 'that table,' Race gave Jack the usual glare and plopped down in his seat. Well gee, what a great start to the day. This whole thing would surely give him extra trouble at lunch, and already Jack was trying to think up an excuse to skip it.

Thankfully, homeroom ended and everyone moved on to first period which really wasn't much better. Now everyone knows that time flies when you're having fun, but the saying also applies to when you happen to be dreading something. And for Jack, it happened to be lunch. Unfortunately for him, the day passed much too quickly and when the fifth period bell rang, he wondered if he could somehow fake sick to go to the nurse's office.

Right as he was about to head to his locker, the teacher called him to his desk. "You're wanted in guidance," he informed him, "Please gather your things and go there immediately."

Well, this wasn't exactly the excuse he was looking for, and the guidance office always meant trouble. Why the hell was he wanted there anyway? Why did they have anything to do with--David. It had been David. So that's why he hadn't said anything to him this morning, because he knew Jack would be livid. Well now Jack was ten times angrier.

Shooting the man a glare, Jack retrieved his things and strode down to guidance with a scowl plastered on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Alright, but after the long wait, I LIVE!!!! So here's the next chapter, where Jack goes to the guidence office. Heh, I hope you guys like it, and BE HONEST in your reviews!! Hoping that you do actually review. I think I might be a tad out of character with this one, so just tell me if I am or not. I was trying to reveal a new side of Jack, but I guess I missed a few things. **

**The next chapter Jack will have his first practice, and his first talk with Davey ever since the fight. Hopefully it won't be another 2 motnh wait. **

**Spirit**

**Chapter 5**

Walking down to Guidance, Jack had no idea what to expect really. He knew they were going to make him show his nearly healed wounds, and Jack wasn't going to do it. He wasn't going to because, if they called his father, things would really get out of hand. But Jack knew this was all David's fault. If he hadn't blabbed his mouth off none of this would even be happening and he'd probably be perfectly fine getting things thrown at him in lunch. But no, Jack was now walking to what he was sure was his inevitable doom.

Stepping into the office, Mrs. Swatko, the desk lady, glanced and him and pointed to a chair. "Ms. Levison will be right out honey." She had not just called him honey. Jack had to actually try not to gag as he sank into the chair. He was in high school right? So why were they treating him like he was back in first grade? Rolling his eyes, he gave a quick sweep of the room, glaring individually at each of the motivational posters that told children to 'say no to drugs and alcohol!' If they thought a high schooler was going to pay heed to that, they were sadly mistaken.

Finally, after at least five minutes of glaring at the wall, a David look a like stumbled out of the office followed by the overly cheery, blonde haired Mrs. Levison. Giving Jack an 'I know what you're here for' smile, she motioned for him to follow back into her office. It took every ounce of his self control not to stick up his middle finger and swear loudly.

Plopping down in an equally comfortable chair, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt until she finally adressed him. "So Jack," She began. "I know you haven't been here recently, but I'm glad we were able to meet with each other again."

Oh yeah, because Jack was really ecstatic to be here, but hell if he was going to let her know it.

"I just want you to know that I'm here to help you, if you'll let me."

Ok, sure, help, Jack didn't need help, he was fine.

"So, where should we begin? I'll let you tell me why you're here, so we both have a good understanding of the situation."

"No, I really don't know why I'm here Mrs. Levision," Jack tried one of his winning smiles. It didn't seem to work, "I don't know who told you anything, but I really don't see any reason for me to be here."

Staring at her, Jack attempted the smile again, trying to put an air of ease around them. "Jack, please roll up your sleeves." She obviously knew he knew why he was here, and figured there was no harm in just cutting to the chase. He saw her scribling on her notpad a word that looked a lot like 'denial.' Denial? Jack wasn't in denial, he just knew he didn't need any help.

"I really don't see any reason to." A slight pang of nervousness hit him, and he tried to shove it down. There was no way he was going to roll up his sleeves if he could help it.

"Well if there's no reason to, the I don't see the problem in doing it," she answered simply. Oh, she obviously knew what she was doing.

"If there's no reason, then I don't see why I have to." Jack tried to stay polite, but his voice became progressively harder with every word.

"Just please do what I asked."

"No." This time it was a flat out rejection, and Jack felt the pang again, and tried to steady his breathing. He was losing this battle, he knew it.

"Jack, do what I asked or I'm calling your father and reporting what our anonymous informant has told us." Her words hit him like a slap in the face, and his dark eyes narrowed. How dare she even go there!! He sighed, defeated. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the wounds snaking up his forearms. She was obviously surprised; because he noticed her green eyes widen and heard a small gasp. Great.

Jack rolled his eyes; he really didn't have time for this. "Mrs. Levison, can I go to lunch now? I did what you asked." Every curse word known to man was bouncing around in his head, fighting for a chance to slip out of his mouth. She still hadn't answered, so Jack rolled the sleeves of his black MCR sweatshirt up and moved to stand up.

"Not so fast Mr. Kelly, I still have a few words to say." The hardness in her voice had diminished a bit, but she had seemed to realize that the sickly sweet disposition didn't work with him. Jack slowly sank back into the chair, poised to dart if necessary.

"You're obviously having some serious issues coping with the breakup of your parent's marriage, and doing that," She motioned to his wrists, "is not the best outlet." Jack grimaced, waiting for it to all be over. "So, I've come up with a plan of action for you. I think that you should come see me once a week during your lunch period so we can discuss how you've been dealing with your situation. I also think that you should get more involved in the school so I'd like you to pick a spring sport to join." The enthusiasm was slowly leaking back into her voice, dampening Jack's hope of getting out of there alive.

"Alright…." He said slowly, nodding his head as a small recognition that he'd at least heard her.

"You can pick from soccer, basketball or track." Three bad ones. Alright, well, he didn't have that much coordination, so soccer and basketball were out, which left track. Well, how hard could running be?

"Track," He sighed, remember 8th grade. Back in the day, he'd been involved in almost every extracurrcular activity available. Ever since his parents had started fighting, that quickly changed. He was reduced to what he was now, practically friendless and a loser. Guess it paid to drop out of life

She smiled, and it wasn't a normal smile, oh no, it was one of those gross, disgusting, 'I've finally cracked you' smiles. It was like she was laughing in his face.

"The school will cover all necessary paper work for you, and practice starts on the first of the next month." She paused for a second, "And Jack, I will know if you aren't going to practice."

Was that a threat? Wow, guidance counselors could play dirty.

He was aware of her voice still droning on, "So as long as you do that, you'll be involved in no time. Isn't that great?"

"Yeah," Jack mumbled, the self pity already welling up inside him. Shoving himself out of the chair and heading out the door without a second glance he muttered mostly to himself, "Great."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: OK! I KNOW it's been a LONG time since I've updated, and to tell you the absolute truth, I completely forgot about this story. If it wasn't for Forkhead's lovely review, this never would have been updated. So, I think this is one of my better chapters, so I hope you all enjoy!! Hopefully next update won't be a million years from now. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I know you all thought I did, but sorry to break it to you folks, all those sexy men belong to Disney. *sigh* **

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**Chapter 6**

Jack was pretty sure he was going to die. He was almost certain his heart would give out and his lungs would spontaneously combust. And now, hearing his lead-heavy feet slam onto the rubber track for what seemed like the millionth time, Jack realized he should have gone with soccer. Nothing could be worse than the laps he was running while the rest of the team went about the regular practice. It was plain humiliating.

Or course Jack didn't know he was supposed to do winter track to get ready for Spring track, and of course he could have no idea that everyone sitting at the cursed table of death did track and every other sport known to man.

In a nutshell, the whole "getting involved with track" idea was Jacks' personal hell. His personal hell with obnoxious guys, the hot sun, and the fact that he was absolutely certain he was going to die.

Lungs heaving, he prepared himself to run past the group of guys again. He wiped the sweat off of his face with his damp sleeve, and sped up a little, trying to look strong and failing. Of course Jack could never look strong running past them, no matter how hard he tried. Even though he heard the whispers and saw the sneers, he tried to stay strong.

The reality that he actually had to follow through with this still hadn't hit him fully yet. Actually, maybe it had hit him somewhere around the fifth lap, but Jack just hadn't felt it, the simple fact being that his legs had gone numb somewhere around that point. Rounding the bend, Jack allowed himself to slow down and cursed David yet again, because after all, this was completely his fault.

Because the number he needed to run per practice out numbered the number of beers his father drank a day, (which was in the double digits) Jack was running long after everyone had left practice for the day. Which really, if Jack thought about it wasn't really that bad of an idea, considering he probably didn't want to be in the same room with all of those boys all at the same time. That was just an accident waiting to happen. And yes, it would be an accident. Well, at least that's what the team would say.

So now, in the empty locker room that reeked of sweat and moldy socks, Jack was silently changing his clothes when he heard the door creak open. Only in his ratty old jeans, Jack froze where he was and prayed that it was just the coach or the janitor. But with his rotten luck it would probably be someone from the team dropping in to pick something up, and then they'd see him, and then…well, Jack didn't like to think about what would happen next. He was tired and sore, and was very likely to collapse the minute he got home. In short, Jack had no patience for anyone else right now, and he prayed with all his might that it was not someone else from the team.

What he wasn't expecting, and the absolute last person he ever wanted to see at this very moment was David, who happened to be standing in front of him, his blue eyes filled with apprehension. Why was he here now? Didn't David get the hint that Jack didn't want to see him? Obviously not if David was standing in front of him awkwardly, fiddling with his hands.

Jack glared into David's eyes, daring him to look away. It didn't take very long for him to drop his eyes to the ground, and it was finally then when Jack spoke rather harshly.

"What are you doing here?" It was obvious Jack wasn't in a good mood, and if David knew any thing about him, he'd say what he wanted to quickly, and then get the hell away.

David's head snapped up and he opened his mouth, stuttering. It was all really rather pathetic. "Uh, I thought I'd find you here…"

It wasn't long before Jack interrupted, "Why? Because you knew I'd been forced into a school sport against my will? Why is that Dave? Because it was you who tattled on me to the guidance counselor like we were five again?"

David visibly winced, and made no attempt to deny what he had done, "Well…I guess that was part of it. But…but I thought that maybe I'd say sorry. Or something. You know…because we haven't really talked in a while."

"Well you know there's a reason for that Davey; I don't like to associate myself with backstabbers. So sorry if that hurts your feelings." There was no trace of mercy in Jack's words, and they flew out of his mouth without a second thought.

David furrowed his brow, searching for something, anything to say that wouldn't make Jack any madder at him than he already was. He came up blank, and for the first time, David had no idea what to say. Of course he knew he was in the right…of course he was. All he had been trying to do was help, and now this huge mess was created. So what else was there for him to do but mumble a "sorry," keeping his curly head down, his eyes focused on the ground? Nothing.

Through all of his anger, Jack couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for David, usually so confident when he spoke, stuttering like a fool because Jack was being unnecessarily mean to him. The feeling quickly passed, replaced with a feeling of triumph. David was suffering as he should be. Jack was already suffering enough as it was, and it was only fair that David should have to suffer too.

Jack wasn't just going to forgive him with a simple sorry, oh no, not after David completely ruined his life. Narrowing his eyes, he saw David take a small step backwards, as if he were bracing himself. It wasn't like Jack's head was going to explode or anything.

"You know what Davey?" Maybe just his emotions were. "Sorry just doesn't cut it when your best friend stabs you in the back and makes you get sent to the school counselor about his 'situation.' Just like in the hallway, Jack's voice was growing louder with every word that was thrown out of his mouth. "Now I'm on this track team with the biggest jerks in the world and if I don't stay on it or show up for practice, they're going to tell my dad! So thanks a lot David, I really appreciate everything you've done to ruin my life, even more so than it already was."

Finally, Jack fell silent, and his words, echoing in the empty locker room, slowly faded away, leaving them with a rather uncomfortable silence. David stood there, stunned, while Jack's death glare returned this time focused at his feet.

Eventually, though neither of them knew how long they were standing there, Jack stopped glaring at his shoes and glanced up ad David who looked like he was about to cry. "I was just trying to help…" he said quietly before turning on his stupid shiny heel and striding out the door. It swung shut with a sort of finality, and Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair.

As his anger faded away, a sense of loss filled his chest, and he swallowed painfully, fighting the urge to call David back so he could apologize. Jack was completely alone, having driven away the only person that had ever made an effort with him. It was this realization that caused him to finally pick up his bag and slowly walk out the locker room door.

The razor he knew was sitting in the box under his bed was getting dusty. He was sure it needed to be used.

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**Ok, I know that was a tad short, and stuff, and my next chapter is gonna be pretty good I think too. So....REVIEW LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW!!! Be honest, because your constructive criticizm makes my life. Ok, so yeah!! CLICK IT.** **And don't worry folks, our Jacky Boy will be ok. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Wow. So how about my summer actually isn't busy at all, and I'm just lazy. And for that, I apologize (to whatever readers I have left) I will try my best to make these updates a little more frequent than they are, which if I really think about it, isn't that hard. :D So here's chapter 6, I really hope y'all enjoy!!

**PS.** This story might only be like, three or four more chapters long. Our EPIC (yeah right) tale of Jack is coming to an end, so as of now and more chapters later, if you're going to review, PLEASE try to make them as helpful as possible. Of course everyone loves the nice little "it was great!!" But I would like some nice constructive critisism, because I know this story is not perfect. So yeah. I love you guys!! Oh yeah, and sorry the chapters are all so short, no matter how much I write in my notebook it always only ends up like four line long. :P

**Disclaimer:** Ok. Don't own 'em. But damn, do I wish I did.

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**Chapter 7**

As the days of torture descended into weeks, Jack found track becoming easier, though the social aspect of it certainly wasn't. The guys on the team refused to talk to him, even after he had more than proved himself worthy by placing third in his division for the one hundred meter race.

Though Mrs. Levison _had_ promised him that they would warm up to him eventually, Racetrack and the others seemed determined to exclude him. And what was worse, David still refused to talk to him at all, avoiding Jack in the hallway whenever their paths crossed. He had even gone so far as to switch tables and sit with his other dorky friends.

Though it wasn't like Jack was making a wholehearted effort to rekindle their friendship, Jack was still angry with David himself, but he at least expected David to make another attempt.

Watching David in the lunchroom chatting happily with his other friends caused Jack to scowl into him ham sandwich. David seemed determined not to look at him, not bothering to turn around and pick up his dropped graphics calculator until he was positive Jack was in line.

"Why don't you just drop it," Spot muttered for the thousandth time that period, slipping a bag of unpaid for chips in his deep pocket. "He's the one who's the backstabbing little shit, not you. Just let the little traitor have his fun."

This earned an eye roll from Jack, who answered, "It's like he wants me to notice he's having a fantastic time, the stupid jerk." Jack could not bring himself to insult David any heavier than that behind his back.

Spot sighed, running a hand through his ratty hair, "I swear you guys act like a married couple sometime. Actually, scratch that, you guys are just dating."

Jack ignored this, instead proceeding to glare in David's direction. So he was bitter, any one would be. What bothered him the most was that David seemed fine without him, where as Jack was all but falling apart without his best friend.

Of course he was still in complete and utter denial…about everything. Between track and school were the loneliest times, though Jack kept acting as though he was "fine, just fine."

Track on the other hand, was becoming a right pain in the ass. There was no other way to put it, and Jack had tried. Oh yes, he'd tried.

As Jack found he was halfway decent at the sport, the more the team seemed to hate him. Whatever fragile friendships he had forged were gone with another timing of the one hundred meter race, Jack finding he had become second best in his division.

They hated him for it, and Jack, his natural charisma dimmed by his depression, believed all the whispered insults and nearly every other night he punished himself for it.

Jack had reverted to mostly keeping to himself, well, until Racetrack thought it might be a good idea to sign the coach up for a porn site. He assured them it was all in good fun, they weren't going to be caught, and the coach would be wondering where the tapes being delivered to the school had come from.

But due to the faulty computer systems in the school, the computer had frozen right when the pop ups had started flooding in, and the pictures wouldn't disappear fast enough for the team to run away before the coach walked in to try and check his e-mail.

In result, the team had been lined up inside the locker room, each looking sheepishly at the floor. "If the culprit comes forward now, the worst that will happen is suspension from the meet on Thursday. But if no one comes forward," Here was the catch, "we will be forced to forfeit for the rest of the season."

There were audible intakes of breath scattered throughout the line of team members, and it was Race that spoke up first, "Coach, you can't be serious! We're going to the semi-finals!! We can't forfeit now or we'll lose to North Allegheny for the third time in three years!!"

"Would you rather be suspended Higgins? That's the usual punishment for an infraction on a school computer."

No one said a word after Race had spoken. The silence was thick, deafening. After a while the coach's glare softened, and now he just looked tired. "Alright fine, it disappoints me to say this, but now we're going to have to quit the whole season. I hope you know what this means for our team."

"Wait!"

The voice echoed in the empty locker room, and all the boys glanced around to see who had spoken out.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and stepped out of line, knowing there was now way he could take back what he'd just done. Blocking out the hushed whispers, he began, running a hand quickly and nervously through his hair.

"It was me coach, I put that site up on your computer. I thought it would be funny. Don't punish the team for something I did."

The coach scrutinized him for a moment, and Jack had wave of panic rush through him, afraid he'd seen through the lie. Though Jack had lied countless times, over things much more serious than porn on a computer.

The moment passed, and the coach nodded and simply said, "Alright, don't bother showing up at the meet Thursday." Then, "Though I expected better of you Kelly, you'd think that you could find a better way to fit in than that."

Jack closed his eyes as the words washed over him, causing more damage than any of the other insults he'd endured up until now. So even the coach knew he was a complete outcast, and though all the others knew it too, it had never been brought out in the open before.

Letting a small sigh pass his lips, the coach walked out without another word. The locker room was silent as Jack turned on his heel and walked down the row of boys to his locker in the back.

And though Jack was absolutely certain the whispers he now heard were now out of pity and embarrassment, he couldn't help but pretend it was out of respect for taking one for the team, in the most literal sense of the phrase.

And even though he had all but convinced himself it wasn't true, Jack couldn't help but smile just a little bit.

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_**Yeah, I had to give my poor little Jack a bit of a happy ending. But know it doesn't end here!! Now go reveiw!!**_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Once again, sorry for the insanely long wait, but here I am, forging ahead. The story's almost reached its peak, so the close is coming soon. I'm thinking maybe 3 more chapters? Yeah, not so epic, but it's the longest thing I've written on this site, and my Brother's Grimm fic might surpass it, but I don't think so. Thanks to EVERYONE who has put up with my stupid long delays, but I've tried my best.**

**I know this chapter is a bit short, but it's a bit of a transition chapter. So yeah. It's kinda lame. Sorry.**

**Alright, ONWARD!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own them…….never will.**

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**Chapter 8**

"So Jack, how have things been?"

It was usually this question that sent waves of anxiety through Jack every week when he had to see the school counselor. Putting up the ongoing façade of being okay took a lot more effort than one would think. Even someone who was as practiced in it as Jack had a bit of trouble hiding his misery from those scrutinizing green eyes.

This particular week however, proved different from the rest ever since Jack had taken the blame for Racetrack's mistake. It seemed as if Jack was finally worthy of the team's attention and had somehow become much more likeable since then. Of course Jack, having been deprived of his usual dose of attention for years, soaked it up like a dry sponge. He reveled in every grin, every word of encouragement that was thrown his way.

Something inside him still nagged at this seemingly happy part of Jack, (a very David-like voice, Jack found) telling him that this couldn't possibly last, that none of them really meant it. It told him he had to snap out of this dreamlike state where everything was good, and get back to the way things were.

But Jack didn't like the way things were before, and he sure as hell didn't want to go back.

Of course he didn't dare confide in Mrs. Levison about any of these fears or doubts he was plagued with, mostly because he didn't want to be judged, because he didn't want to be labeled, 'troubled.' Who knew what that could do to his seemingly salvageable status?

So naturally, when asked the dreaded question this week, Jack responded with his usual easy smile, (which coincidentally came easier this time) and "Well, actually, really good lately. Track is better."

Jack didn't want to seem too excited about the drastic change in his social life, not wanting to seem too eager to gain some friends other and David and Spot.

"See?" She answered happily, a broad grin on her face, "I told you it would get better!"

Jack suppressed an eyeroll and nodded, "Yup, you were right." He refused to tell her about the sacrifice he'd made in order to gain their approval, because he knew he'd be met with suddenly sympathetic eyes, and the answer that Jack didn't want to hear.

Somewhere, Jack knew that this whole track business wasn't as good as he'd made it out to be.

"How's David?"

Jack's heart sank at those two simple words, at the mention of his seemingly forgotten best friend.

"Um, well I haven't really hung out with him all that much lately." Jack tried to keep the information on David to a minimum, hoping that she'd realize he didn't want to talk about it and drop the subject.

"And why is that?"

But that wasn't Mrs. Levison's style, and Jack should have known that. Sighing, he decided to answer as truthfully as possible. "He doesn't want to talk to me."

"Do you know that for a fact?" was the clipped reply.

"Yes. I know that. For a fact."

His voice must have betrayed something because Mrs. Levison's eyes narrowed, and with the same knowing look she'd given him on the first day said calmly, "Jack, I'd like you to roll up your sleeves please."

Jack, who had been wearing a black hoodie in seventy-five degree weather, scowled. "Yeah, why's that?"

"I don't want to argue with you, just do it and you can leave."

That was the biggest load of crap Jack had ever heard since David had confessed that "all he wanted to do was help."

Jack realized at that exact moment that he didn't need to put up with all this crap anymore and there was no reason for him to have to sit there and do anything against his will. She could call his father sure, it wasn't like that would solve anything, and due to the way Jack was feeling all this week, he could face anything.

It was because of all of these carefully thought out reasons that caused Jack to smirk, push himself up out of the char and silently walk out of the guidance office.

Grinning smugly at Mrs. Swatko, he allowed himself a handful of the generic candy mints and showed himself out the door to his lunch period.

That would teach them a lesson about trying to control Jack Kelly.

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**Like I said, a transitional chapter. I won't be surprised if I don't get any reviews, but if you want to, tell me what you think!! **

**See you all hopefully sooner than two months! **

**~Spirit**


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